r sa& t* [ BY H. G. BROOKS.] May be had complete in One Part, Price Two Shillings. Sent, per Post, by adding Six Postage Stamps. No. 44. j PARTS 1, 2, and 3, NOW BEADY- Bach Part may be sent, per post, by attaching Six Stamps; or sent direct from the Office, for Eighteen Stamps. ' I PUBLISHED WEEKLY. Price Id.- per post 2< 1. > For remote parts, Single Copies may be sent direct from the Office, for 2 Postage Stamps, or 26 Stamps per Quarter. A BEASTLY EXHIBITION ( KOD AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY. THE mawkish maudling march of mode sentimentality which has induced the saintly crew in various parts of the country to cry down the exhibitions of the Poses Plastiques, and even to cavil at the illustrations in some of the cheap publi- cations, on the alleged ground of immorality, has given to our artist the idea figured in our first page ; for, although it is a well- quoted aphorism, that to the pure all things are pure, it is a singular fact, that the Government Schools of Design are in future to be placed on the same footing as the Royal Academy, and all their copies to be made from living models, i. e, naked groupings, male and female. OLD BACHELORS. They are wanderers, and ramblers— never at home, Making sure of a welcome wherever they roam. And ev'ry one knows that the Bachelor's den Is a room set apart for these singular men— A nook in the clouds of perhaps five feet by four, Though sometimes, perchance, it may be rather more, With skylight, or no light, ghosts, goblin, and gloom, And ev'rywhere termed ' The Bachelor's Room.' These creatures, they say, are not valued at all, Except when the herd give a Bachelor's ball; Then, drest in their best, in theiT gold broidered vest, ' Tis known, as a fact, that they act with much tact, And they lisp out ' How do?' and they coo and they sue; And they smile for awhile, their guests to beguile; Condescending and bending, for fear of offending. Though inert, they exert to be pert and to flirt; And they turn and they twist, and they e'en play at whist; And they whirl and they twirl, and they whisk and are brisk; And they whiz, and they quiz, and they spy with their eye, And they sigh as they fly; For they meet to be sweet, and be fleet 011 their feet; Advancing and glancing, and dancing and prancing; And bumping and jumping, and stumping and thumping; Sounding and bounding, around and around; Sliding and gliding, with minuet pace; Pirouetting and setting with infinite grace. They like dashing and flashing, and lashing and splashing, And racing and chasing, and pacing and lacing; They are flittering and glittering, gallant and gay, Yawning all morning, and lounging all day; Love living in London— life loitering away At the Club and at St, James's, the Park and the Play. But when the Bachelor boy grows old, And these butterfly days are past; When threescore years their tale have told, He then repents at last. When he becomes an odd old man, With no warmer friend than the warming pan ! He is fidgety, fretful, and weary— in fine, Loves self and his bed, and his dinner and wine! And he rates and he prates, and he reads the debates; Abuses the world— and the women he hates! And in prosing and dozing, and cozing all day; And snoring, and boring, and roaring away. And he's snuffy and puffy, and huffy and stufly, And musty jind fusty, and rusty and crusty, Sneezing and wheezing, and teazing and freezing, And grumbling and mumbling, and stumbling and'tumbling, Falling and bawling, and sprawling and orawling, And withering and dithering, and quivering and shivering, Waking and aching, and quaking and shaking, Ailing and failing, and always bewailing ; Dreary and weary, and nothing that's cheery; Groaning and moaning, his selfishness owning; And sighing and crying, when lying and dying, Grieving and heaving, though nought is he lcaviug But wealth and ill health, and his pelf and his self. Then he sends for a doctor to cure or to kill, Who gives him offence as well as a pill, By dropping a hint about making his will: And as fretful antiquity cannot be mended, The lonely life of the Bachelor's ended. Nobody mourns him, and nobody sighs, Nobody misses him— nobody cries, Eor nobody grieves when the Bachelor dies. Why does a donkey prefer thistles to cern?- an ass. - Because he's 2 TRICKS OF SERVANTS. TALES OP LONDON LIFE— No. 2. There is no class of individuals about town, who assume greater consequence than the West- end lacqueys and liveried servants. To see one of these pampered popinjays strutting along like a drum- major, after his lady in the pdrk, or in the secluded streets of the fashionable regions, with a silver or gold- headed cane, rather taller than himself, in liis hand, one would think that he was " monarch of all he surveys." These fellows' line liveries, to be sure, belong to their masters— but their dandyism and impudence are their own— and a more insufferable set of puppies than these " gold sticks in waiting " are, do not exist in this wide metropolis. However obsequious they may be at home, they are generally very extragavant and very assuming abroad ; and treat themselves to all the pleasures and enjoyments of town life, which tliey can by any means bring within their reach. Many of them sport gold watches, and not a few of tliem are known to keep mistresses expensively, if not in style, in various parts of the suburban districts. They ape the man- ners of their superiors in all things, even in expense— and their consequent self- importance is greater in proportion to the rank of the families iu which they live, and to the means they have of procuring money, to enable them to carry on their sports. But the question is, where do these fellows, whose wages are fixed at a certain sum, get the money to meet the expenses of their extragavancies and their fopperies. To which it may be replied, that they have more resources than one would think— in fashionable families, the servants consider themselves entitled to, and almost invariably claim commission- money, on almost every article that is ordered into the house for the family's consumption— that is, a per centage on the amount paid by the tradesman from whom it is ordered, and in many cases willingly submitted to by him, in con- sideration of the patronage which it secures. Woe be to the refractory tradesman who refuses payment of this commission- money ; some effectual means will be adopted by the dis- appointed footman to get him dismissed, and the orders of the family will be given to some more pliant dealer. In carrying these means into effect, the per- centage denied liveried plun- derer is by no means scrupulous ; so much are shopkeepers aware of this fact, and so anxious are tliey to do business, that a recommendation by a favourite domestic to the head of the family, is often purchased and paid for at a very handsome rate, within an hour after the family's arrival in town for the season. In this way do these obsequious fardel- wearers, who pass for very pretty fellows, continue to possess themselves of some very profitable pickings in tlieir way, but there is honour among thieves— and to prevent one servant interfering with the perquisites of another, a very nice arrangement has been agreed to, and is prescriptively acted upon amongst them. By the way, there is not a word in the language, tliat smells more of the Servant's Hall, than that term, perquisites. It is rendered by Johnson— something gained by a place or ofiice over and above the settled wages. Thus the lady's- maid ob- tains her lady's cast- off gowns, and wl^ en there is an intrigue or an assignation in the ease, either on the part of her old mistress or her young one, that is, either on the part of the mother, or the daughter of the family— if she is silent and discreet, many are the presents she receives by way of per- quisite, and often in the shape of coin. The arrangement above alluded to, as preventing one ser- vant interfering with another, in the plunder of their masters' tradesmen, is a very convenient, and a very workable one— it has already been once or twice exposed, and the exposure has always done good by way of ppening the eyes of the masters to the tricks practised by the gentry below stairs ; in order to put money— i' th' purse, the whole brooding community are divided, as it were, into classes, and the servants, according to their several stations, have their own peculiar customers. For instance, the butler preys upon the tailor, the boot- maker, the hatter, and the wine merchant; the housekeeper, among others, upon the butcher, the grocer, the baker, the pastry- cook, and the fishmonger ; the milliner and the mercer come under the claws of the lady's maid ; and as for the coach- man, he can always make something out of the corn- chandler, the harness- maker, and similar tradesmen ; the footman in consideration of his usefulness, ^ nd his secrecy, is admitted to a share of the regulars obtained by the housekeeper and the butler, being, as Byron says, among them, although not of them. Of course, the gentleman's valet has his own resources, his master's cast- off clothes are not all he manges to secure ; all the tradesmen with whom ( op his master's accpunt) lie deals, must pay him toll, and that exclusively. When we use the phrase " preys upon," we do not mean to say that the tradesman does not take care of himself. He is the greatest shark of them all; like Aaron's, his rod, or rather his bill, swallows up all the rest. He makes the master pay for all, and in proportion as he is bled himself, he causes the person who employs him to bleed the more freely. We need not say anything of the laziness of the liveried menials at the West- end, as these offensive qualities must be noticed by every one who in any way comes in contact with these fellows. We may qnly observe, in conclusion, that the passion for tall lacqueys seems to be revived among the fashionables. Under the head, " Want Places," we may often see an advertisement, stating that an unexceptionable tall man would not object to a single- handed place of confidence and trust ; or that a very tall man out of livery, is willing to take care of an invalid, or an eldery gentleman out of his mind. In fact, in most fashionable families, the footmen are what may be called marvellous proper men; hence may partly be traced the abominable insolence, presumption, and pride of these fellows. MODEST MARTHA; OK, THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON STREETS. BY H. G. BROOKS, AUTHOR OF " MRS. I. ORUIER SPINKS." SONG OF THE INSOLVENT'S ( ATTORNEY) AGENT. ( Picked up at the Grange.') At pints of law, and quirks, and moves, I've diddled the natives, you know, my coves; When a raff on th' other side's spit his spittle, I've floored the beggar as neat as a skittle. Both Cook and Sargood, aye, a fact ' tis, I whop by chalks with my sharp practice. Old Solomon Pell, that Dickens has said, Seven nights in the veek went lushy to bed; Was never such a regular out and outer, As me the wonder of ' turney and touter. Sometimes, ' tis true, I was short of the brads, But that's a complaint with u » solvent lads. The commissioners four in Portugal- street, Shake hands with me whenever we meet; No man of the court I'll allow to be upper, Since Charley the cock asked me home to supper. And we swilled away so long at his port, That no Law was found next day in the court. A FEW WORDS ABOUT THE THEATEES. I've seen • - look werry queer, Stunned and bleeding from a deep wound in the back of the head, for some moments poor Solitary Sam remained upon the curb- stone at a short distance from the residence of Lady Arding. As we before observed, so sudden was tho movement, that it was impossible for either the female who accompanied the unfortunate young man, or the victim, to call for assist ance. " Wretches," exclaimed the girl, raising the fallen man from the ground, " you triumph now, but your victory is but tran- sient. Sam, Sam," she continued, " look up, it is me— me, Rose — KOSB Maitland." A low groan was the only response the girl received. With horror she now perceived that liis wound was apparently one of a most dangerous character. To call for the assistance of the watch under ordinary circumstances, would have been but a natural proceeding, but Rose understood the difficulties of her position— brief was the time allowed lier for reflection. " This man," she muttered, " is fearfully wounded: I am cer tain that Louisa Palsgrave knows of this outrage, and she shall assist me." The resolve was no sooner made than she proceeded to put it into operation, and rushed to the garden entrance of Lady Arding's mansion. At this moment the watchman entered the street, and our readers will perhaps better conceive than we can describe, his astonishment at looking upon the scene which met his view. To his understanding, the figure of Rose was retreating, but there could be no mistake as to the appearance of Sam Rivers, — lie was bleeding and insensible. " Halloa, what game are you up to here," said the watchman, placing his hand upon the shoulder of Rose: " who's heen knocking this man down ?" " Villains." " Yes, yes, no doubt, but who are tliey, what are their names ?" " Do not attempt to stop me." " What do you intend to do at that door ?" Rose made no answer, feeling that if shs did so, she might probably injure those whom the ties of friendship, if not some- thing stronger, united her with. " Where are you going ?" continued the watchman, and as he put this question he turned the . light of the lanthorn full upon her countenance, and the agitation therein depicted rather tended to increase the unfavourable impression he had formed of her. " I insist upon knowing who this man is." " He is a friend of mine." " Of course he's a friend 1" said the official. " Come, is it you, you or your pals, who liave been trying to buzz ( rob) him." Rose thoroughly understood the slang expression which the watchman had thought proper to use to her: indeed, it would liave been something worse than affectation, considering her appearance, for her to have attempted ignorance. " I tell you," she answered, " lie is a frieud of mine— no one has attempted tft touch ( plunder) him— 1 was anxious } o call for assistance." " Ah! yes— no doubt— a very fine yarn, but that tale won't do for me, marm." '' I assure you it's true." " Well- well— we shall see," added the officer. " This story must be told to some one else." As the man uttered these words he tightened his grasp upon tho shoulder of the female, and with the other hand he was about drawing from liis belt his rattle, when lie was also seized by a firmer grasp. " Wlut are you going to do with this girl?" inquired an authoritative roice. The watchman endeavoured to turn round to see from whom this query proceeded, but finding from the tightness of the grasp that this was somewhat difficult, lie contented himself by exclaiming—" What the blazes is that to you, and who the h— U are you?" " This is my wife," was the reply. " Let her go." " Take your hand then from my shoulder." The stranger did as desired, and the next instant Rose found herself face to face with tjic individual, who, in the last number we described as taking away the poach and Modest Martha. " I am here," exclaimed Rose. " You here," reiterated the watchman. " Well, it's a good imitation," was the cool reply. I thought you were at— at— at— were at— home," said Rose: " Then you see you are mistaken." " And I thought you were in Botany Bay," said the watch- man.— " You know me then," said the stranger. " Rather, Master Edward," Well, well, no matter,— you won't spoil an old friend, I'm sure." " I know, Ned, you're a right ' un— but business is business, you know— and you've had a tolerable tidy run." " You're chaffing," was tlie answer, and as the speaker made this observation, lie gave a glance of peculiar meaning at Rose: " however," he continued, " you won't let this poor devil lie here, and croak— I think lie's also an old friend."— " The devil he is," said the watohman. " Don't be chaffing, now," said Rose, in an under tone, " You don't know this man, I'm sure." " Silence, womaa," exclaimed the stranger, " and don't inter- fere with men's business :— raise him gently." " Who is he ?" enquired the watchman, turning his light full upon the features of Sam, but the blood and dirt had so disguised him, that he found it impossible, to use liis own ex- pression, " to make him out." " What! not know Sam Rivers," said the stranger," who was formerly at the house in Bury Street." " He that was servant to Pemberton?" " The same !" " To be snre I do," answered the watchman, " d— n it, he musn't be there: I'll spring the rattle, and soon liave assist- ance." " No, you dont," exclaimed Rose, knocking the ' wooden alarmist'from liis hand: " you are too clever." " Bravo Rose— good gud," shouted the man who had claimed her as his wife; and striking the guardian of the night upon the head, he forced his hat over his eyes, and then continued in a louder tone, looking across the road, " here, my pippins, come and take care of this young creature." The three men who were described as rendering so much assistance to Driscoll, at the close of tlie last chapter, again made tlieir appearance, and pulling the watchman into the road, gave the stranger au opportunity unseen, to grasp the person of Rose, and before she had time to utter a remonstrance, even if she had been so inclined, lie opened the door and forced her into the garden of Lady Arding's house. ( To be continued.) When I've axed for tick for a pint of beer; He wouldn't then serve me from cock or from keg, But now the boot's on the other leg. I sometimes beseeclied, but our bung wouldn't give it, But now ye buffers lie's right as a trivit. WE have often been asked why we never say anything about the theatres— why we never introduce the subject of the drama? observing that THE TOWN of 1837, 8, and 9, went to the thea- tre, and if we do not do the same ? We do go to the theatre! We lore the stage; and we agree with Shakspeare that " the play, the play's the thing." Other matter has, however, hitherto prevented our noticing regularly the proceedings at the places open for dramatic representation; nor do we now pledge our- selves to give a regular weekly analysis of the movements of the minors and majors, an occasional notice being all that our space will permit. Indeed, to keep pace and do justice to all the burlesques and pantomimes produced at this season, would more than fill our broad- sheet. Therefore declaring ourselves free from all connection with the Christmas theatrical season, we liave a free choice of subjects to talk upou. A general fact well worth the attention of our readers, is tlie grent quantity of comic histrionic talent now in London. People talk largely of the decline of British actors, and, with regard to certain lines of business, they are undoubtedly correct. They may also be right in assuming that no such brilliant company cau be brought together as in former days. The multiplicity of thea- tres causes the existing talent to be diffused all over the metro- polis; but if the amateur will take the trouble of observing the good comedians, he will be astonished to find how numerous they are. In the first place there can scarcely be a more ex- cellent actor of light comedy than Mr. Charles Matthews. Possessed of a mercurial temperament, endued with unwearied vivacity, he lias superadded an exquisite finish that calls to mind the best acting of the French stage. If he lias a part in which he may do as he likes, it is surprising with what judg- ment he avails himself of the license. Not a minute will pass without some new oddity breaking forth; but with all his over- flow of spirits he will not for a moment lose sight of the soundest discretion, showing the difference between the vulgar and polished actor. Mr. Keeley is another instance between a happy naturel and the most consummate art. Some years ago he was looked upon as an actor indebted for his comic efforts partly to the shortness of his figure and partly to a knack which he had acquired of giving his face a ludicrous expression of terror. Certainly no actor ever equalled Mr. Keeley in the representation of terrified astonishment; but those persons were widely mistaken who fancied his talent was confined to this characteristic oddity. Let him be seen in one of Shakspcare's characters now— Launce, for example. Every look, every motion, every modulation of the voice, is full of significance. There is not a more conscientious Shaksperian actor than Mr. Compton. He also makes a point of studying a character thoroughly, and displays great intelligence in his impersonations, but he is deficient in that unction which belongs to Mr. Keeley. Messrs. Wright and Buckstone, though as different as possible in their styles, may be classed together, from the circumstance that they try less to represent nature than to amuse by their own idiosyncracies. The oddity of Mr. Buckstone is the antithesis of convention — one never knows what he will do next. His acting is altogether some- thing per se; he has liis own interpretation of every emotion that stirs the human heart; his love, his jealousy, have sym- bols that can only be understood in detail by a familiarity with his style, but the ensemble is perhaps more broadly comic than the performance of any actor on the stage. If a piece be in- trinsically dull and heavy, there is no comedian who can step in to the rescue, and startle a drowsy audience into roars of laughter with more certainty than Mr. Bucketone. Mr. Wright, in another atmosphere, would probably have been a less grotesque actor than Mr. Buckstone, and he now and then gives touches of a quiet humour, which stand out in strange contrast to the general extravagance. But an Adelphi audi- ence has notions of its own, and one of its peculiarities is to insist on improvisation in the principal comic actor. By the improvisatorial style of acting the late Mr. John Reeve gained his ascendency over his audience. Mr. Wright is legitimately his successor, and rules his admirers with perhaps more unli- mited sway. A nod or a wink from Mr. Wright is the sure signal of good- fellowship ; the spectators have their cue, and are prepared to follow their favourite to the end. Mr. Paul Bedford, if we set aside his singing, which gives him a certain independence, is in some sort made by Mr. Wright. If Mr. Compton is plafcoration without unction, Mr. Bedford is unction without elaboration, but the good- humoured stolidity which he assumes serves as a target for the drolleries of the more viva- cious Wright, and the two actors are so associated with each otiier, that they become sharers of one popularity. Whilst upon the subject of the drama, it may not be out of place in passing, to notice the French Opera Comique, which has opened with great eclat at its legitimate English habitation, the St. James's Theatre. The company is most powerful, ial eluding the names of the leading favourites on the Parisian boards; in return for which, the liberal caterer, Mr. Mitchell, is receiving well- merited patronage from the nobility and the' public. AN ENLIGHTENED COBBLEB.— At a sale of books, which took place in Liverpool lately, a man who had Drew's Essay on the Soul knocked down to him, gravely asked the auctioneer if he had any more works on shoemaking. A SLIGHT MISTAKE. At Walsall, a few days since, a Birmingham man, well known at the Lamp, in Cannon- street, for being a tolerable good toper, and rather soft iu the noddle, was persuaded to turn teetotaller, and for this purpose was directed to the Water Company's office. Charley accordingly entered the office, and finding the mana- ging director absent, entered into conversation with the clerk, who informed liim that the company ( society Charley called it) was going on first- rate and lots joining—" I suppose you do take a drop occasionally yourselves?" he inquired. The clerk looked astonished, but Charley continued: — " Come now, tell us honestly, don't you often , have a glass of rum this cold wea- ther?" The clerk admitted he did, and thought probably the stranger was about to pay for one: this, however, was prevented by the entrance of the manager. Charley was shown into the private room, and he then informed the director he wished to put down his name as one of the society. " Most happy, sir." said the manager bowing; " it's a capital time now, as it will only cost you twenty- eight pounds." " Twenty- eight pounds?" exclaimed the would- be water- bibber, perfectly flabbergastered —" what for?" " For water, sir— the water. Didyounotsay you wished to join us?" " Yes, I did," was the emphatic answer, " but twenty- eight pounds worth of water at a first go- off is too much :— egad I'll stick to the ale and the rum— I shouldn't drink that quantity in a month;" and he left the director in a state'of spiflication. WHAT IS A HAT? What is a hat? Was there ever so vile an invention as this hat — oval, edgy, ungraceful; a saucepan or peck measure with a pasteboard rim. Its best look upstartish— its worst brutal— its least, offensive, imbecile. Shapeless, except in deformity; a thing that even a great painter finds impracticable, and that makes a great man look foolish; a form of uncom- promising and angular lines, wherein a circle ceases to be pleasing, an oval graceful. The most ugly, unmeaning, and uncomfortable of artificial head coverings. High crown or low crown, broad brim or narrow, flat or curved, with whatever modifications of fashion, it appears alike tasteless and offensive. A crown that weighs down the head, a brim that keeps off no sun, an eye- sore, a head- ache; heavy, without being warm, if large not handsome, if little not elegant; an abortion of inge- nuity, the horror of taste, a stigma on our national propriety, worthy only of the coat that it surmounts. 87 T H E TOWN. AN INFORMER'S LETTER. As things go at the present moment we opine the following to be rather a gem in its way. No mistake about the business principle that pervades the whole epistle. Such a man would he a treasure to Joe Ady. " London, May—, 1849.— DEER TOM,— This kums opin you are Well as it leaves Us at present. We are kum to town from a most delicious trip to Cheltenham: can't say much for the Waters, and the brandy hat the Ilihn, the agitated Ram was not wot we ave had on coste of Sussecks. How- ever, thank God! things is turned up well on the Ole; i did the post- shayse touch agin primely. We tooke babby with us to give things a colour, my missus looked as delikato as she coulde, and, as luck wolde ave it, babby warnt very well. The Landlord thouglite me liinnoceat as Milke, and so missus and me and gal lived like fitin cocks, and evry day the old oman and cliilde and gal goes out in a po- shayse, for, as i sayde, a hairing. Well, the two fust days the landlord gives the poste ticket, and I beguu to thinke him two downe for Cannibal; howsumever, as he founde out that the chay never went as far as the turnpick, and that missus and babby only wanted a short hairing, he drops the ticket, and then, ' Now I lias him,' says I. ' downe as a annner!' How we did putt bye the Shampayne that day at dinner. Well, torn, so we lives for aboutt six weaks, and God be praist for it, the hair did us alle a morte o' good; but now the fun's cumin. Six weaks hein gone, the landlord walkes up one day at breakfast, and says, rubbin his ands, hand smiling like a streete noeker, ' My little bill, Sir,' says lie, ' if quite konwenient.' ' To be sure,' says I, brakein a liegg and winkin at him, ' two be sure— the bill.' ' ear it is, Sir,' says he. i looks at it, and it mavde my hart beet for joy, it was sich a long un. ' Wery eye prices ear,' says i, lookin at the bill. ' it's a eye hinn,' says the landlord, tryin to kum grand; wherehupon I gets up, and givein him a office look, i says, says i, ' mr landlord, do you love your kuntry ?' i hope i do,' says he. ' Then,' says I, ' if you ave the buzum of a Patryot, how dare you think to rob and swindle her most greyshus mageste, God bless him?' ' what do you meene?' says the landlord, turnin pailer than liis neckcloth—' what do you meene ?' ' where's them tickets, the pochayse, the dooty, eh?' and i looks at him terrible. ' it was alle a mistake, sir,' says lie—' can't help it,' says i, ' the Xize prospers on mistakes.' ' i trust, sir,' says bonifaee, ' i'mdealin with a genl'man,' and then he looks very dowtfuL ' you are,' says i, ' but they hinsty- tewsliuns of the kuntry must be supported: what's to be kum of the krown, and the establisht Church, and tryal by Joory, and abeas horpuss, if there's no patryotism— if men shirk the Xeise?' then he begins to knowe his customer, and says,' well, sir, you wont be ard with me?' ' God forbid,' says i; ' so i tell you what, old fellar, write me a receat for this sixty pound, and, to make it all smooth, and us over a bit o' rag for twenty, to take us to lundun to our peaceful home.' oh! torn, you should ave seen liow he jump! and swore so, missus and babbye was ^ forced to leave the roome. " well,' says i, at last, it's no matter,' and i makes a fumblin in my pocket as if i was goin to take out my pus, ' you know the penaltys,' says i— and they was swingein, for we had the po- chayse often three times a day •—' you knows the penaltys?' i repeats, when he says nothin, but takin out his pocket- book, black in the face, raps me out a twenty, rites a receyte, abooses me when he's on the stayr- case for a willainly informer; when, not ehusin to be insulted in our own hinn, we packt up our trapps and started for towne. imade two pounds out ofa larnier on the road: i askt him for a lifte in his cart, made him take a shillin, and then frig'utent him with information for carryin passengers in a untaxt weicle.— yours, deer torn, till detli, EBENEZER CANNIBAL." " P. S. Mugs, the landlord of the Feythers, rides rusty, and is slo with the hush- money ; i'm told he hadde a dance and two fiddlers on Friday— and in Lent, two— in the baeke parlour. This must be seed into." THE MYSTERIES OF LOVE; OE, THE Adventures of Mnuon Lescaut It was in my room aid in Manon's presence that he delivered this apostolical harangue. He rose to depart. I was about to JANUARY. Thick fall the fogs down like clouds from on liigli, Red is the sun like a ball in the sky; Dark are the days grown and sullen the hours, Deserted the gardens, departed the flowers; Enshrouded the mountains with fog as a cloak, Encircled the cities with mist, clouds, and smoke; Dark are the mornings, the milkman calls hoarser, And asthma abroad rides his white prancing coarser; The trees are all leafless, the flowerets dead, And the ground with the refuse of summer is spread; From the lank boughs like tear- drops condensing mists fall, And moisten the chilly earth's sear leafy pall; Above and below, or without and within, The north wind carouses with wide- spreading din; The houseless- and beggar find few hearts to cheer, And such is young January, the first month of the year. : TAKING IT COOL. " Taking it cool," is a common everyday sort of expression, but the Americans, perhaps, beat us of all nations in the world; take the following as a specimen:—" Near to a place called Stcppenberg, lived an old squire of the name of Peleg Sandford; he and his family were all of them the most awful passionate folks that ever lived, when they chose; and then they could keep in their temper, and could be as cool at other times as cucumbers. One night, old Peleg told his son, Gucom, a boy of fourteen years old, to go and bring in a backlog, for the fire. A backlog, in a wood fire, is always the biggest stick that one can find to carry. It takes a stout boy to lift one. Presently, in comes Gucom, with a little out stick, no bigger than His leg, and throws it on. Peleg got so mad, he never said a word, but just seized his ridin' whip, andgavo him a most awful whippin'. He tanned his hide properly for him, you may depend. ' Now,' says he, ' go, sir, and bring in a proper backlog.' The boy went out, but from that period till eight years had passed away, although every search was made, all trace was lost of him. At that time, when looked upon as dead, he re- turned. When he arrived to the old house, daylight was down, and lights lit, and as he passed the keepin' room winder, he looked in, and there was the old squire sittin' in. the same chair lie was eight years afore, when lie ordered in the backlog, and gave him such an unmerciful whippin'. So what does Gucom do, but stops at the wood pile, and picks up a most liugaceous log, ( for he had growed to a most thunderin' big feller then), and openin' the door, he marches in, and lays it down on the hearth, and lookin' up, says he, ' Father, I've brought you in the backlog.' Peleg was struck all of a heap; lie couldn't be- lieve his eyes, that that great six- footer was the boy he had cowhided, and he couldn't believe his ears when he heard him call him father; a man from the grave wouldn't have surprised liim more— he was quite oufakilized and bedumned for a minute, But lie came to right off, and was iced down to freezing point in no time. ' What did you say?' says he, ' That I have brought you in the backlog, sir, you sent me for.' ' Well, then, you've been a d— d long time a fetchin' it,' says he, ' that's all 1 can say. Draw the coals forward, put it on, and then go to bed, That's what I do call coolness, and no mistake." " I am glad this coffee don't owe me anything," said an ac countant at his breakfast. " Why so?" inquired his wife, " ' Cause I don't believe it would ever settle," he replied. However, continued lie, after a moment's thought, it is per- haps the excited state into which want lias thrown you, that denies you now the liberty of choosing the proper path. Man's mind must be at rest, to know the luxury of wisdom and of virtue. I can afford to let you have some money ; and permit me, my dear chevalier, to impose but one condition: that is, that you let me know the place of your abode, and allow me the opportunity of using my exertions to reclaim you. I know the t there is in your heart a love of virtue, and that you have been inly led astray by the violence of your pissions. I of com Je agreed to every thing lie asked, and only begged of him tod splore the malign destiny which rendered me callous to the conns els of so virtuous a friend. He then took me to a banker of his acquaintance, who gave me one hundred aud seventy crowns for the note of hand, which was taken as easli. 1 havealready said that hewasnotrich His living was worth above six thousand francs a year, but as this was the first year since his induction, he had as yet touched none of the receipts, and it was out of the future income that he made me this advance. I felt the full force of liis generosity, even to such a degree as almost to deplore the fatal passion which thus led me to break through all the restraints of duty. Virtue had for a moment the ascendency in my heart, and made me sensible of my shame and degradation. But this was soon over. For Manori I could have given up my liope8 of heaven, and when I again found myself at her side, I wondered liow I could for an iustant have considered myself degraded by my passion for this enchanting girl. Manon was a creature of most extraordinary disposition. Never had mortal a greater contempt for money, and yet she was haunted by perpetual dread of wanting it. Her only desire was for pleasure and amusement. She would never have wished to possess a sou, if pleasure could have been procured without money. She never even cared what our purse contained, provided she could pass the day agreeably; so that, being neither fond of play, nor at all daz- zled by the desire of great wealth, nothing was more easy than to satisfy lier ;, by daily finding out, amusements suited to lier moderate wislies. But it became by habit a tliing^ so absolutely necessary for her to have her mind thus occupied, that, withont it, it was impossible to exercise the smallest influence over her temper and inclinations. Although she loved me tenderly, and I was the only person, as she often declared, in whose society she could ever find the pure enjoyments of love, yet I felt thoroughly convinced that her attachment could not withstand certain apprehensions. She would have preferred me, even with a moderate fortune, to the whole world; but I had no doubt that she would, on the other hand, abandon me for some new M. de B , when I had nothing more to offer lier than fidelity and love. I resolved therefore so to curtail my own individual expenses, as to be able always to meet hers, and rather to deprive myself of a thousand necessaries than even to limit her extravagance. The carriage made me more uneasy than anything else, for I saw no chance of being able to maintain either coachman or horses. I told M. Lescaut of my difficulties, and did not conceal from him that I had received a thousand franks from a friend. He repeated, that if I wished to try the chances of the gaming table, he was not without hope that, by spending a few crowns in entertaining his associates, I might be, on his recommenda- tion, admitted into the association. With all my repugnance to cheating, I yielded to dire necessity. Lescaut presented me that night as a relation of liis own. He added, that I was the more likely to succeed in my new profession, from wanting the favours of Fortune. However, to shew them that I was notiquite reduced to the lowest ebb, lie said it was my intention to treat them with a supper. The offer was accepted, and I entertained them en prince. They talked a good deal about my fashionable appearance and the apparent amiability of my disposition; they said that the best hopes might be entertained of me, because there was something in my countenance that bespoke the . gentleman, and no one therefore could have a suspicion of my honesty: they voted thanks to Lescaut for having introduced so promising a novice, and deputed one of the member to instruct me for some days in the necessary manoeuvres. The principal scene of my exploits was the hotel of Transyl- vania, where there was a faro table in one room, and other games of cards and dice in the gallery. This academy was kept by the Prince of R , who then lived at Clagny, and most of his officers belonged to our society. Shall 1 mention it to my shame ? I profited quickly by my instructor's tuition. I ac- quired an amazing facility in the sleiglit- of- hand tricks, and learned in perfection to sauter le coup; with the help of a pair of long ruffles, I shuffled so adroitly as to defy the quickest observer, and I ruined several fair players. My unrivalled skill so quickened the progress of my fortunes, that I found myself piaster, in a few weeks, of very considerable sums, besides what I divided in good faith with my companions. I had now no fear of communicating with Manon tlie extent of our loss at Chaillot, and, to console her on the announcement of so disastrous news, I' took a furnished house, where we es- tablished ourselves in all the pride of opulence and security. Tiberge was in the habit, at this period, of paying me fre- quent visits. He was never tired of the moral lectures. Over and over again did lie represent to me the injury 1 was inflict- ing upon my conscience, my honour, and my fortune. 1 re- ceived all his advice kindly, and although I had not the smallest inclination to adopt it, 1 had no doubt of its sincerity, for I knew its source. Sometimes I rallied him good- liumouredly, and entreated him not to be more tight- laced than some other priests were, and even bishops, who by no means considered a mistress incompatible with a good and holy life. Look, I said, at Manon's eyes, and tell me if there is one in the long catalogue of sins that might not there find a plea of justification. He bore these sallies patiently, and carried his forbearance almost too far: but when he saw my funds increase, and that I had not only returned him the hundred and seventy crowns, but having hired a new house and trebled my expenses, I had plunged deeper than ever into a life of pleasure, lie changed his tone and manner towards me. He lamented my obduracy. He warned me against the chastisements of the Divine wrath, and pre- dicted some of the miseries with which 1 was shortly afterwards visited. It is impossible,' he said, that the money which now serves to support your debaucheries can have been acquired honourably. You have come by it unjustly, and in the same way shall it be taken from you. The most awful punishment Heaven could inflict would be to allow you the undisturbed en joyment of it. All my advise, he added, lias been useless; I too plainly perceive that it will shortly become troublesome to you I now take my leave; you are a weak, as well as an ungrateful friend! May your criminal enjoyments vanish as a shadow may your ill- gotten wealth leave you without a resource; and may you yourself remain alone and deserted, to learn the vanity of these things, which now divert you from better pur- suits! When that time arrives, you will find me disposed to love and to serve you; this day ends our intercourse, and * once for all avow my horror of the life you are leading. detain liim; but was prevented by Manon, who said it was better to let the madman go. What lie said, however, did not fail to make some impression upon me. I notice these brief passages of my life when I ex- perienced a returning sentiment of virtue, because it was to those traces, however light, that I was afterwards indebted for whatever of fortitude I displayed under the most trying cir- cumstances. Manon's caresses soon dissipated the annoyance this scene had caused me. We continued to lead a life entirely devoted to pleasure and love. The increase of our wealth only re- doubled our affection. There were none happier among all the devotees of Venus and fortune. Heavens! why call this a world of misery, when it can furnish a life of such rapturous enjoyment? But alas, it is too soon over! For what ought Man to sigh, could such felicity last for ever? Ours shared the common fate,— in being of short duration, and followed wit lasting regrets. I had realized by play such a considerable sum of money that I thought of investing a portion of it. My servants were not ignorant of my good luck, particularly" my valet and Manon's own maid, before whom he often talked without any reserve. The maid was handsome, and my valet in love with her. They knew that they had to deal with a young and in- experienced couple, whom they fancied they could impose upon without much difficulty. They laid a plan, and executed it with so much skill, that they reduced us to a state from which it was never afterwards possible for us to extricate ourselves. Having supped one evening at Lescaut's, it was about mid- night when we returned home. I asked for my valet, and Manon for her maid; neither one nor the other could be found. They had not been seen in the house since eight o'clock, and had gone out, after having some cases carried before them, ac- cording to orders which they pretended to have received from me. 1 at once foresaw a part of the truth, hut my suspicions were infinitely surpassed by what presented itself on going into my room. The lock of my closet had been forced, snd my cash as well as my best clothes, were gone. While I stood stupified with amazement, Manon came, in the greatest alarm, to inform me that her apartment had been rifled in the same manner. This blow was so perfectly astounding, so cruel, that it was with difficulty that I could refrain from tears. The dread of infecting Manon with my despair made mc assume a more con- tented air. I said, smiling, that I should avenge my self upon some unhappy dupe at the Hotel of Transylvania. However, she seemed so sensibly affected, that her grief increased my sorrow infinitely more than my attempt succeeded in support- ing lier spirits. We are destroyed! said she, with tears in her eyej. I endeavoured, in vain, by my entreaties and caresses, to console her. My own lamentations betrayed my distress and despair. In fact, we were so completely ruined, that we were bereft almost of decent covering. I determined to send off at once for Lescaut. He advised me to go immediately to the Lieutenant of Police, and to give information also to the Grand Provost of Paris. I went, but it was to add to my calamities only; for, independently of my visit producing not the smallest good efiect, I, by my absence, allowed L. scaut time for discussion with his sister, during which he did not fail to inspire her with the most horrible re- solutions. He spoke to her about M. G M , an old voluptuary, who paid prodigiously for his pleasures; he so glowingly describe?! tho advanta ges of such a connection, that she entereiinto. all his plans. This discreditable arrangement was concluded before my return, and the execution of it only postponed till the next morning, after Lescaut should have ap- prised G—— M . I found liim, on my return, waiting for me at my house; but Mauon had retired to her own apartment, and she had desired the footman to tell me that, having need of repose, she hoped she should not be disturbed that night. Lescaut left me, after offering me a few crowns, which I accepted. It was nearly four o'clock when I retired to bed; and having revolved. in my mind various schemes for retrieving my fortunes, I fell asleep so late that I did not awake till between eleven and twelve o'clock. I rose at once to inquire after Manon's health; they told me she had gone out an hour before with her brother, who had come for her in a hired carriage. Although there appeared something mysterious in such a proceeding, 1 endeavoured to check my rising suspicions. I allowed some hours to pass, during which I amused myself with reading. At length, being unable any longer to stifle my uneasiness, I paced up and down my apartments. A sealed letter upon Manon's table at length caught my eye. It was aderessed to me: and in her handwriting. I felt my blood freeze as I opened it; it was in these words: " I protest to you, dearest chevalier, that you are the idol of my heart, and that you are the only being on the earth whom I c « n truly love; but do you not see, my own dear chevalier, that in the situation to which we are now reduced, fidelity would be worse than| madness? Do you think tenderness pos*- sibly compatible with starvation? For my part, hunger would be sure to drive me to some fatal end. Heaving some day, aj sigh for love, I should find it was my last. I adore you, rely upon that; but leave to me, for a short while, the manage- ment of our fortunes. God help the man who falls into my hands. My only wish is to render my chevalier rich and happy. My brother will tell you about me; he can vouch for my grief in yielding to the necessity of parting from you." ( To be continued.) An elderly gentleman being dangerously sick was advised to send for a physician, but declined, because, as lie said, he wished to die a natural death " I ALL THE BACK NOS. OF t H E TOWN ARE REPRINTING. A SLIPPERY. AFFAIR- The papers, during the past week, have been filled with ac- counts of the proceedings of certain " shivering snobs," who, taking advantage of the season, have been performing various acts of gyration upon the ice, in the neighbourhood of the parks ; these parties presuming, forsooth, upon en assumed association with a self- dubbed Cricket Club, have annoyed, if not frustrated, numbers of her majesty's more hnmble sub- jects, whilst enjoying this healthful and harmless recreation. Now, we have no objection to sliding swells, but we have a great aversion to stupid skaters, and our artist, while doing with us an ice on the Serpentine last week, observed a female placed in the unenviable position depicted above; the lady's slip being caused through the ruffianly conduct of certain parties connected with the society just named. We trust this hint will be sufficient, despite the stupid and pointless jests which were made upon the " fallen state." FA COLUMN FOR EVERYBODY. A NEW WAY OP HAVING A FLAT. A SQUALLY AFFAIR. An old bachelor, who edits a paper somewhere down in Yorkshire, puts " Melancholy Accidents " as a head for Mar- riages in his paper. SOMETHING TO MAKE SCHOOLBOYS SMART.— A vessel has just arrived from Hong- Kong having 25,000 canes on board. " Kitty, where's the frying- pan?"—" Johnny's got it, carting mud and oyster shells up the alley, with the cat for a horse." " The dear little fellow! what a genius he'll yet make; but go and get it. We're going to have company, and must fry some lish for dinner." A person who knows English, German, Italian, and Spanish, is often able to say a stupid thing in five languages. When does a man eat the most indigestible supper?— When he bolts the street door before going to bed. A SINGULAR BEQUEST.— A French lady, Madame De l'laia- ance, who long dwelt in Greece, has lately died, leaving all her property, by will, to " the most virtuous woman;" a oommittee, of which the Queen of Greece is to be the president, having to decide amongst the competitors. English women are specially excluded from competing. A southern editor wishes to know whetlicr| tlie laws recently enacted against carrying deadly weapons, apply to doctors who carry pills in their pockets. An Irish dragoon, on hearing that his widowed mother had been married since he quitted Ireland, exclaimed, " Murther! I hope she won't have a son oulder than me; if she does I shall lose the estate!" A gentleman at Boston is such a stickler for gentility, that he requested the schoolmaster not to teach any of his boys vulgar fractions. Why is every teacher of music necessarily a good teacher. Because he is a sound instructor. A lady noted for her kind feeling, on hearing that the Pope was still very uncomfortable with respect to Home, exclaimed, " Poor old man, has he got any family?" On the matter being explained to her, she added, " Well, I hope he'll marry now." The difficulty of acquiring tlie English language by a fo- reigner is illustrated by the following question:—" Did you ever see a person pare an apple or a pear with a pair of scissors? A cute Yankee has brought to the Egyptian Hall the patent nest, at the bottom of which is a kind of trap door, through which the egg, when laid, immediately drops, and the lien looking round and perceiving it gone, soon lays another. " I'm not afraid of a barrel of cider!" said a toper to a temperance man. " I presume not, from your appearance; I should think a barrel of cider would run at your approach," was the reply. The latest name for a lady's bustle, is " Back Gammon!" An advertisement in a Philadelphia paper reads as follows:— " Stolen, a watch worth a hundred dollars. If the thief will return it, he shall be informed, gratis, where he may steal one worth two of it, and no questions asked." A MUFF.— A Muff is a thing which holds a young lady's hand without squeezing it. " Very poor milk this," observed a wife to her lord one evening. " Yes, my dear, it is like your tea." " How is that?" " Too much water in it!" It is not generally known that cucumbers can be made into pickles while growing, if you get a cross old maid to look over the fence at the vines three times a week! An Oxford student joined, without invitation, a party dining at an inn; after dinner he boasted so much of his abilities, that one of the party said, " You have told us enough of what you can do, tell us something you cannot do." " Faith," said he, " I cannot pay my share of the reckoning." " Nothing will stay on my stomach," said an old lushington, " but beefsteaks and old ale: what do you think of my inside, eh doctor?" " Why, I think you've a very sensible inside," was the reply. A silk- dyer enriched his sign with this neat parody | on Goldsmith's familiar lines, " When lovely woman stoops to folly." When lovely woman tilts her saucer, And finds too late that tea will stain; Whatever made a lady crosser? What art can wash all white again? The only art the stain to cover, To hide the spot from every eye; And wear an unsoil'd dress above her, Of proper colour, is— TO DYE. What is the largest capital a man can invest in business, and which shall insure liirn the greatest amount of interest? — Answer: Civility. A few, very few months since, there drove up to the door of an eminent dealer in brocade, lace, jewellery, and other sun- dries, an elegantly appointed carriage, of the newest pattern and colour. A showy liveried footman, with a gold- headed cane in his hand, and a laced hat surmounting his head, sprunk from behind, threw down the steps, and an elegantly and exquisitely- dressed female gracefully descended. By the un- initiated in such matters, the fair one in question would ne- cessarily have been considered a lady of some consequence; but, to any one acquainted with her, the bright black eyes and smiling lips of the chere amie of our hero would have been dis- tinguished beneath the assumed airs and guise of the dame of quality. A well- dressed woman always commands respect, especially when she steps out of her carriage, and is called " my lady ;" so nothing could exceed the obsequiousness of the worthy citizen and his myrmidons to the titled customer who now honoured his establishment with her condescending patronage. Whole pieces of the richest blonde, and yards of the most delicate Brusssls lace, fine as a cobweb, were selected by her ladyship. The expence was a mere trifle. She would appear in anew costume at her cousin's, the Duchess of ' s fete-, and should rival, at least, if not excel, the famous blonde robe of the Countess of Comini. The purchases were carefully be- stowed on the crimson velvet cushion of the carriage, and the lady felt for her purse. " Mercy on me ! how stupid; I have absolutely forgotten it." The man of lace looked down, and spoke not. " Deville, come here. ( The footman approached.) Have you seen my purse?" " Nou, mi ladi. Perhaps it may be in the carriage, mi ladi." " That is true. Look for it." The footman returned from searching the carriage, with a look which plainly spoks the unavailing nature of the search. This was an unexpected demurer. " At any rate, it will only be an hour's delay, as I go straight home," said the lady. Still the mercer was dumb. " If you will ride in my carriage to my house— it is but a quarter of a mile out of town— I can there pay you the amount, as you seem alraid to trust me, and 1 will sent the carriage back with you." This was reasonable. The profits on so large an account were too much to lose, besides the lady's custom, so the vender of edgings consented. He apologised for his being so exact. " But, my lady," said he, " if you were to know the daily risks people of rny occupation run, from sharpers, you would not wonder or take offence at my scruples." The lady smiled, as much as to say he might have made an exception in her favour ; but they entered the carriage, and drove off. The merchant had never been farther from Bow bells than Hyde park, and as the easy- paced carriage bore them from the smoky, crowded streets, into the fine open country, towards Ilampstead, his eyes were charmed with the prospect of the suburban villas, which, even at that time, began to stud the wide road. The gravelled avenues, evergreens, verandas, and close- cropped lawns, made him sigli for a country life. The richly- cultivated hills rose before him, and noble trees were scattered through the meads. Soon a more extensive plantation, with a very high domain wall, announced a noble seat. The vehicle approached a gothic archway, the portals of which were massive oak, secured with iron bolts. " It must be a handsome house that require such care," said our citizen. " It has cost us a great deal of money, I assure you, to make it what it is," replied the lady; " I hope you may be pleased with it." This, then, is your residence? ( The lady bowed.) I am sure anything belougieg to one who shewed so much taste in the selection of goods as your ladyship has to- day done ine the honour of doing, must be pleasing." " You flatter me," simpered out the lady, with the air of at least a duchess. " I am allowed to be quite aufait at se- lecting." The bell of tlie porter's lodge was now rung, and responded to; the portals opened, and the carriage swept past. " It is, indeed, a princely spot," said the mercer, letting down the window, and looking through, when he saw a house of noble proportions ( in the centre, a handsome portico, supported on Doric pillars), with extensive wings. The grounds were of considerable magnitude, and laid out with judicious taste. " Are all those domestics yours?" he enquired, as he saw a number of men about, some weeding, others digging, and each, as the carriage passed, looking up with a vacant stare. Oh ! yes," she smartly replied. " May I trouble you to put up that glass? I fear the cold very much, beiDg subject to tooth- ache." After a very few moments, they drew up in front of the mansion. A servant in plain livery, opened the door. " Is your master at home?" " Yes, my lady." " Do you come in with me," she said, in a tone of some au- thority, to the mercer. ( Ho obeyed.) " Do not put up the carriage," she said to the coachman, " it will be wanted irnnie- ately." " No, my lady," was the prompt reply. The mercer and the lady were shewn into a spacious drawing- room. " Yov wi? l wait here for a moment." The mercer bowedr Turning to the domestic, the lady inquired, " Where is your master." In the library, my lady," Can 1 see him ? Is he He is quite alone, my lady," answered the domestic, as he led tho way to the library, She was ushered into the well- filled room, where sat, in his armchair, Doctor , the most eminent " mad doctor," as ho was vulgarly called, in the vicinity of London. He was a small, bilious- looking man; his head bald, features sharp, but dyter- mined, and eyes like a basilisk. " Doctor," said the fair lady, attuning her voice to a piteous tone, " I come to request your aid." " It shall be cheerfully given, in the hope of doing service, replied the M. D. " What are your symptoms ?" " You mistake me, sir. It is not for myself I request your service— I almost wish it were— but for the best and kindest of mankind, my dear and excellent husband. " I pity you, lady, and trust I may bring him round. " Where is he ? " I brought him in my carriage, and he is now in your draw ing- room,' " You acted rightly. It is always better to be decisive. Is he alone?" " He is." " That is not proper." " Oh! yes— he is perfectly harmless ; indeed, 1 might say, perfectly rational, on every point except one; as we will en deavour to explain next week Schoolmaster.- How dare you call me mean and cowardly, you young rascal.— Bog.— So you his— ain't you going to take an advantage of me behind my back ? Schoolmaster.— That shall not save you, you little villians learn logic with your figures— oven now you are " two to one," Settees to ^ omspoutrcnts. We have a host of Correspondents that we are compelled to postpone until next week. H. W. WOLFE, ( Blackburn). — You may hear such things as you have sent us every day. At tbe same time we thank you for your attention. J. M. ( Glasgow.)— Tbe matter is grossly personal, if not libellous. A FRIEND in Oldham Street tells us " That there are two Russian or Persian giants being shown somewhere in Manchester, who are BO LONG it takes TWO DAYS to exhibit them. The article on the " Snobs of Birmingham,** is of no use to us. R. J. S.— The woman can compel your friend to keep the child. Duo ROBERTUS TIAZYUM.— The price depends upon the quality of the skin, as you may purchase " fancy leather " at almost any figure. We under- stand there has lately been a large French lot brought over, and a piece was shown in Waterloo- place a few evenings since, that created a trifling sensatioH; we however, prefer the English article. PILLGARLICK, ( Newscastle- on- Tyne).— The Scotch fishermen never consult the barometer, having a prejudice against it. One of them some time since observed, speaking of the barometer at the port of Greenwich, that there had never been good weather since it had been brought there. WILD FELLOW.— A tea spoonful of Carbonate of Soda in a glass of spring water, taken the first thing in the morning, and repeated once or twice in the course of the day, is a never failing preventive. We have tried it these twenty years. KIKO FUM.— Not suitable. CRUCIBLE, ( Birkenhead) .— Complete the article. MIXED PICKLES.— Much obliged " ould chap." Awfully busy; write you next week— pos. J. and J. C. ( Oxford).— We purpose publishing it in the Town. ELINOR'S letter shall be attended to. See our answer relative to the Cale donian School. A EADER.— We suppose you mean a " Jew's a man for a' that." THE WONDER OF THE AGE-! Now publishing, in Penny Weekly Numbers, and in Monthly Parts> superbly Embellished with a beautiful and highly- coloured Engrav* i" g, representing a principal Scene taken during the representation, the PICTORIAL FLAY. " The play's the tiling."— SHAKSPBAKI;. rpms work comprises the best collection of modern Dramas ever offered J. to the British public, and is pronounced the greatest gem of its kind ever seen. It contains Tragedies, Comedies, Operas, I'arces, Burlesques, Melodramas, Interludes, Vaudevillse, Spectacles, and Pantomimes, printed verbatim from the Acting Copy ; and the publication of every new piece is personally superintended by tlie Author, wlio supplies the originai cast of Characters, Stage Business, & c. Each Play is perfect in itself, and may bo bad at less than the cost of a common Programme. No. I. Harrison Ainsworth's celebrated Drama of JACK SHEPPAKD, As Performed at tlie Royal City of London Theatre. The Purchasers of No. VI. of the " PENNY PICTORIAL PLAY" will be gratuitously presented with a Specimen Number of that popular Pub- lication the " TOWN." LONDON: HENRY BEALE, Bookseller, 4, Shoe Lane, Fleet- street; and to be had of all Booksellers. IN CASES OF SECRECY. CONSULT DR. DE ROOS' CELEBRATED WORK, rpHE MEDICAL ADVISER, the Sixty- fourth Thousand of X which is just published, containing 144 pages. Illustrated with nu- merous beautifully- coloured engravings, descriptive of the Anatomy aud Physiology of the Generative Organs in both sexes; and also containing chapters on the obligations of Marriage ; Diseases of the Male and Female parts of generation; the Treatment and Cure of nil those Secret Diseases arising from Infection and youthful excesses; with plain directions for the speedy removal of every disqualification, easily, safely, and secretly. May be obtained, in a sealed envelope, of the Author, in English, French, or German. 2s., or free, by post, for 32 postage stamps. Also of Hicks, Holywell- street. Country patients cannot be too minute in the detail of their cases, thus rendering a personal visit unnecessary. Advice, with medicines, AT. Patients corresponded with until cured. Those deemed INCURABLE are particularly invited. To MAKE A FIVE ACT COMEDY. — Buy a few good old plays— which are to be had at any book- stall— take from them their best characters and incidents; trim up old jokes and dress your dramatis persona in paletots, trousers, and patent leather boots, in exchange for their old costumes of velvet coats, knee breeches, and buckle shoes. Slang is often used instead of wit; but this is not objectionable. PRIVATE HINTS ON ALL SECRET DISEASES, Generative Weakness, and Nervous Debility, with plain directions for cure, price 6d., post free, 8d. By H. WALTON, M. D., M. R. C. S. & « ., who may be confidently consulted ( without a fee) from 8 a. m. to 10 p. m. daily, at his residence, No. 55, Great Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields. Letters promptly attended to, and inviolable secrecy observed. N. B. Recent cases of Disease perfectly cured within a week, Seminal Weakness in a month.— Medicine suitable to the symptoms sent to all parts ( sub rosa). rflHE CONFESSIONS OF A LADY'S MAID; X a picture of fashionable passion and sednctiou. Price 2s. 6d. post free* JUST REPRINTED — SECRETS FOR YOUNG MEN, SINGLE MEN) AND MARRIED MEN; giving a description, by which all diseases may be cured without medical aid. " This is a useful little work, and should be read by every Englishman." 8d. post free—" Old Bell's Weekly Messenger." THE SWELL S NIGHT GUIDE through London. Edited by the Lord Chief Baron, 3s. 6d. post free. MYSTERIES OF VENUS— Lessons of Love: or the Adventures of Kitty Pry— five plates, 4s. 6d. post free. WOMAN of PLEASURE, coloured plates, 5s: 6d;, post free: BEAUTY OF WOMEN, 3s. 6< 1.; post free. THE EXQUISITE, in Three Volumes, One Guinea each, or Three Volumes, Three Guineas, ( carriage free). GENESOLOGY OF WOMEN, Sixty- three coloured Engraving, post free, 5s MEMOIRS OF MISSF H , coloured plates, jSst free, L 6d. PHYSIOLOGY OF MAN, coloured Plates, post frei, 3s. THE SILENT FRIEND, Twenty- six coloured Plates, post free, 3s ARISTOTLE S CELEBRATED MASTER- PIECE, 3s. Cd. HARRIET WIISON, 5s. Gd. post free. AMOURS OF LORD BYRON, 4s. 6d. post free- THE SECRETS OF NATURE Revealed,! 2s. 6d. post free. COAL- HOLE SONGSTERS, Is. each, post free. LESSONS FOR LOVERS, only 3s., post free; originally published at 10s. 6d. BACHELOR'S ALBUM, ten splendid coloured plates, post free, 2s Od TIT BITS FOR GENTLEMEN, six racy plates, a la Francais. posW Is BEFORE AND AFTER, two beautiful plates, from Hogarth, 6d. post free' THE MEDICAL ADVISER, by Dr. De Roos, coloured plates, priced 6d' post free,—" The best work on the subject"— Public Press. Stamps taken as Cash. Catalcgues sent per post, on receipt of two stamps. T: HICKS, 34, Holywell- street, Strand: T. H. will not be responsible for any Works directed to be sent to Post Office Printed and published by W. WINN, 34, Holywell street, Strand, where all communications are to be addressed, Sold at all Booksellers, Hai'wuy Station, and Steam Boat Piers.